I am Erik
by absentmindedgenius
Summary: I watched my past burn tonight. All I have ever known, destroyed before my eyes..."


**I am Erik**

I watched my past burn tonight. All I have ever known, destroyed before my eyes. Not just my material possessions, but my anger, my hate...dare I say it, my obsession?

For tonight, I can see clearly for the first time I can remember. Labelled from birth, I never had a chance to simply be me. I was a monster. I believed it. I thought that to be accepted by one person would make me less of a monster, but now I realise I was wrong. For there will always be those who judge, and they will do so regardless.

In breaking mirrors, I am now able to see myself more clearly. In destroying my instruments, I can hear far better than ever before. I am letting my past go, unchaining myself.

So I am moving on. I will leave the world of incompetent managers, self-important divas and trusting sopranos behind. I do not yet know where I will go, though the good Madame Giry wishes to speak with me about my future.

She has been good to me, the dear Mme. Rescuing me first from my tortured childhood, then defending and supporting me as I grew. My one regret is that I have not lived up to the opportunity, the new life, which she gave me. I owe her my life, and she is the one human being on this earth for whom I would lay it down.

I will listen to any suggestion she has, then I will leave. I do not wish to be a burden for her, as I must have been all these years. The best thing I can do for her now is leave. I do not want to rely on my past.

I see now I made a mistake with the young Mlle Daae. I wished for her to accept me, to be the one person to see behind the wretched monster. But of course, something better came along, and now I am alone again. I never trusted her, but I gave her my heart blindly.

Never again.

I do not wish her ill. I am sure that she and the Viscount will be happy, and I no longer intend to stand in the way. For there are enough people to hate me, without my encouragement. I simply hope that one day, she will be able to look back and remember her teacher, if not fondly, then at least without hate. For I gave her all I had. Music is all I have.

And whatever I do in the future, music will once again figure. In this instant, there are too many memories associated. The screech of a violin brings back memories of opening night, the pluck of a harpsichord's string reminds me of the hours I have spent with quill and ink, putting ideas to paper.

But in time, the memories must surely fade, and I will once again be able to play. I must think this, as it is all that keeps me going. It is all I have to live for now.

Maybe I will teach. Maybe I will compose. Or maybe I will play simply for pleasure. I have enough money put by from my pay to never need to work again. For who would hire this face?

This face.

It is a blessing and a curse. I have never been able to appreciate what it has given me before this day. For it is this face that resulted in my growing up with my own operatic overture, my own backing music to the story. Were I normal, I would never have been able to listen to the finest music in the land, and work with the finest musicians. For work with them I have. Not just in the teaching, but in the composing. I know each player well, and my operas have been tailored to them. They will never be played so well by a different orchestra. That is what I gave them.

That is what this face gave them.

Yet this face has brought sorrow beyond mortal imagination. Unable to even show my face, what hope was there for me? I convinced myself I was a monster. I do not blame my mother. For I understand now. I was something alien to her, she did not know what to do. But in turning me over to the circus, she ensured that I would carry on her helplessness. For how can I understand love, when I have never been loved? How can I understand companionship when most would never dare come close?

I never imagined the day would come when I would be able to look at my life, my past and future so candidly, so unemotionally. But the truth is, today I am numb. I am detached. Taken from what I know, I must make a new start.

So from this day forward, I am not the Devil's Child.

I am not the Opera Ghost.

I am not even the Phantom.

I am Erik.

* * *

A/N: This was written during a brief period of insomnia. Consequently, I've no idea if it's compliant with the book...it being years since I read it. It's based mostly on the film. I'd love to hear if people think it's any good... 


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